Bidspirit auction | GIONO JEAN: (1895-1970) A poignant

GIONO JEAN: (1895-1970) A poignant autograph love letter by Giono - GIONO JEAN: (1895-1970) French Writer whose works of fiction were largely set in the Provence region of France. An extremely rare autograph love letter by Giono, A.L.S., ` Ton Jean´ (” Your Jean”), four pages, 4to, lined paper, Manosque, Saturday, [7th February 1942], to Blanche Meyer, in French. An exceptionally interesting love letter by Giono to his secret lover Blanche Meyer, a relationship which marked Giono´s life and work since 1940, a letter which Giono calls ` Ceci est la lettre nº 1´ (” This is the letter nº 1”), indicating that it could be considered the first of their epistolary relationship. This superbely written lengthy moving letter by Giono shows the whole range of forms that passion, suffering, tenderness, jealousy, lyricism can take, revealing an unknown Giono. A document of prime importance in the study of Giono's work, stating in part ` Ceci est la letter nº 1 mon coeur. Je ne t´ai pas écrit tout de suite en rentrant de la gare. Le coup a été abominablement plus dur que je ne pensais. Je suis rentré sans m´en apercevoir. J´écoutais ton train haleter en t´emportant. Te voir à la portière de ton wagon m´a été extrêmement pénible. Jusqu´à midi je n´ai, au pied de la lettre, pas existé. Je n´existe guère maintenant. Il neige très fort. J´ai fait un gros feu. J´ai bu de la fine: trois grands verres. Fumé des pipes. Couché sur mon divan. J´essaye de lire mais j´ai ta lettre sur ma table et de temps en temps je me dresse et je viens t´écrire. De terribles jours commencent pour moi. Je suis de toute évidence déchiré en premier lieu, de ton départ, de ton absence. Ce qui est le plus cruel c´est que tu n´es pas là. Je savais que cela me serait insupportable. Je sens que ce sera insurmontable. J´ai regardé déjà plus de cent fois du côté de ta maison: je vois les arbres, j´imagine ton appartement vide. Je ne regarderai plus de ce côté. Je suis complètement perdu. Je le savais, mais maintenant je le sens. C´est un peu différent et tous les beaux raisonnements n´y feront rien. Pour le surplus, je m´efforce de ne pas penser, de ne pas imaginer, de ”vivre sans moi”. Mais je ne t´ennuierai pas avec ces obscurs débats, ne t´inquiète pas, mon coeur. Je voudrais surtout que tu n´y voies aucun manque de tendresse. L´amour, bien sûr, tu le vois à ces moments même où je souffre terriblement de la peur de te perdre, ou plutôt de la peur de ne pas t´avoir, mais ce qu´il faut que tu sentes aussi aux mêmes moments où semble-t-il je doute de toi, c´est aussi ma tendresse. Elle est la même. Elle sera toujours la même, quoi que tu fasses et quoi qu´il arrive. Je n´en aurais pas hônte même s´il ne me restait qu´elle. Je t´aime mon doux coeur et je t´aimerai toujours mais toujours aussi j´aurais autant de tendresse pour toi que ce que j´en ai maintenant en train de t´écrire...´ (Translation: ” This is letter number 1, my love. I didn't write to you right away when I got back from the station. The blow was abominably harder than I thought. I came back without realizing it. I listened to your train gasping as it carried you away. Seeing you at the door of your carriage was extremely painful for me. Until noon I literally didn't exist. I hardly exist now. It's snowing very hard. I made a big fire. I drank some fine wine: three large glasses. Smoked pipes. Lay on my couch. I try to read but I have your letter on my table and from time to time I get up and come and write to you. Terrible days are beginning for me. I am obviously torn apart, first of all, by your departure, by your absence. The cruelest thing is that you are not here. I knew that it would be unbearable for me. I feel that it will be insurmountable. I have already looked over a hundred times towards your house: I see the trees, I imagine your empty apartment. I will not look that way again. I am completely lost. I knew it, but now I feel it. It is a little different and all the beautiful reasoning will not do anything. For the rest, I try not to think, not to imagine, to ”live without me”. But I will not bore you with these obscure debates, do not worry, my heart. Above all, I would like you not to see any lack of tenderness in it. Love, of course, you see it at those very moments when I suffer terribly from the fear of losing you, or rather from the fear of not having you, but what you must also feel at the same moments when it seems I doubt you, is also my tenderness. It is the same. It will always be the same, whatever you do and whatever happens. I would not be ashamed of it even if it was all I had left. I love you my sweet heart and I will always love you but I will always have as much tenderness for you as I have now as I write to you...”) Further, Giono mentions his recent past years fears and also the future he wishes, stating in part ` C´est surtout maintenant qu´il ne faut pas mentir ou se cacher.